


First Time Perfection

by SenkoWakimarin



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: M/M, Porn With Plot, Sentimental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 07:03:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16445096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenkoWakimarin/pseuds/SenkoWakimarin
Summary: Everything ends.





	First Time Perfection

Everything dies and entropy is real, but David felt, for a while, at least, like they were locked in something outside of time, outside of physics. Frank’s lips met his, rough and chapped and so full, so warm, and suddenly it was his whole world, narrowed down to where their bodies met.

He’s had moments like this before, where the mundane became suddenly, sharply profound, and they were each so unique and special. Holding his children for the first time. Sarah’s hand in his, walking home that first night, every night. Vomiting while stoned out of his mind, certain he was dying, sure that he had died and he’d been wrong all his life; hell was real and he was there. Not all special things are pleasant.

Everything dies, ideas and moments and universal constants. But while Frank’s hand clutches his shoulder and David comes into sudden, perfect awareness of his own arousal, there is something that seems eternal in the exchange, tongues moving lazily, thoughtfully together in something that’s too sloppy to really call a kiss. If everything fades anyway, you could create your own perfection in any well-observed moment.

It’s almost orgasmic, the feeling of time retaking him, giving him more to feel, his mind reeling as he processed Frank’s fingers dipped into the back of his jeans, hand settled low on his back, pressing into him; Frank’s eyes drifting closed, lashes fanned over cheeks still coloured with pale bruises; Frank’s voice muffled and rumbling in a groan. More: Frank shoves their bodies close, and he’s so hard his cock is straining at the rough seam of his zipper, Frank just as hard against his thigh. His own hands, resting carefully on Frank’s sides, gripping just enough to keep him.

The world is still Frank; Frank’s hands and Frank’s lips, the taste of him licking into David’s mouth, the heat of him sinking into David’s shell shocked body. But Frank is talking, time has reestablished itself.

“I would have died, David, you know it?” he’s saying, and David knows it, sure, he knows it so much better than he wants. Frank would have laid down and died after finishing Rawlins, leaving Russo in the wind and his business unfinished. He would have died, but now here they stand, so close they’re breathing each other’s air; they’re still _breathing_ , though, and that is everything to David.

“I was ready. Fuck, I was ready before you ever called that diner, called to talk to me and lead me into your shit. I woulda died, David, and _you_ saved me. Only you.”

David draws in a sharper, shuddering breath at that, the words so gentle and so insistent, thick with conviction. Frank utterly believes what he’s saying. He kisses David gently, almost chaste, when David gives that little gasp, and then continues:

“You saved my life. What am I supposed to do with that, huh?”

“Call us even,” David offers, plain and emphatic. “You saved me, too. My whole family…”

Frank’s fingers card up along the back of David’s skull, holding him close. “Talked to Sarah about this first,” he says, a bit of silence later. “She thinks it’s something we should try getting to work. Smart woman, brave. She loves you a lot.”

“She loves you too,” David blurts, and Frank laughs, quiet and tired.

“The point is, it’s up to you at this point. What you want. How far it goes. It’s… you know I’m hard to deal with. But if you want to try…”

The hand on his back drifts down, dipping under his waistband to fit the curve of his ass, only the thin cotton of his underwear between Frank’s palm and his skin. Two floors down and a couple rooms over, his family sleeps in protective custody. David has no doubt that there are agents all along this floor, too, keeping an eye on Frank before they give their testimony.

All things end. Things are ending all the time, every second drowning in loss. But things are beginning at all times too, and people forget that. Every infinitesimal end heralds a beginning which ultimately ends only to begin again. Same as ever and shiny new always.

This is the end of their rigidly platonic friendship. David thinks it’s maybe the end of a really strange attempt at courtship, as well.

“Of course I want to try this,” he says, tone tinged in the wonder that Frank could ever doubt that.

This is the beginning of a friendship much more honest, much more open. They’ve loved each other for so long that neither of them can pinpoint when it started. They’ve only known each other for a long trail of months, but the affection and physicality come so naturally to them both that they might as well have been there for eons.

Frank kisses him again and squeezes his ass, and there’s so much raw desire in it that David feels his erection, flagged to semi-hardness by the conversation, thicken back to the point of straining his jeans. Shoved up against Frank and held in the vice of his arms, there’s no way the marine can’t tell.

He expects Frank to be rough with him, but he’s not. He might get there eventually, but right now, David feels like he’s made of glass and Frank is fighting the urge to smash him. Frank treats him like he’s precious, gives him every care.

When they’re both undressed, David finally starts really participating, spreading his legs and holding himself open. Frank looks at him like he’s something celestial, gorgeous and desirable and not a gangling pale geek.

It’s been well over a year since anyone touched his ass like this. He and Sarah had a healthy fifty/fifty routine when it came to much more than housework, something David couldn’t wait to share with Frank, but all they’d had time for since David had returned to the family was a few frantic quickies.

So it feels especially good when Frank slicks his fingers in lube and presses one into him. This is not his bed, not even his hotel room, but Frank working him open is like coming home, a strangely powerful sort of comfortable familiarity.

Loosely sprawled on the softness of the strange bed, David tries to hold this moment in that weird freeze, to feel it stretch into its own eternity, but he’s too hungry for each new sensation, and time marches on as it must, implacable and starved, too busy for pleasantries. Frank takes his time, breaking David into a relaxed, panting mass of need. If Frank’s hand is this good, how’s David supposed to manage his cock?

Indeed, when Frank replaces his fingers with the press of his cock to David’s hole, David almost thinks he’s going to lose his fucking mind. The thin, hot line of pain David associates with being penetrated is barely there as Frank fucks into him, so nicely open he is after Frank’s fingers. He moans out loud when Frank finds the angle that brushes his prostate, then catches a scream in his hand when Frank plows into it directly. That slicked up hand wrapping around his own cock is the final straw, Frank only pumps him a few times and he’s coming, splashing up both their chests, embarrassingly fast.

Frank hitches and stutters, the movement so good in David’s overly sensitized opinion that he almost begs Frank to stay, to come buried inside him. But then he’s empty, white hot come splashing over his stomach and chest while Frank strokes himself, their eyes locked, and that’s got to be some kind of religious experience.

Even when he complains about how disgusting cold come feels while they soap each other down in the shower, he’s thinking about that, about Frank looming over him like a god, judgement and punishment and reward, stroking his cock as he watched his seed splatter across David’s pallid flesh.

Everything dies, even memory. But David is much more interested in the way each memory, each sensation, gives way to another in this eternal progression. A million beginnings, a billion firsts. He’s tired of seeing the endings, the lasts.

He relishes the first time climbing into bed with Frank, the first time feeling him give in to the inevitability of spooning. The first time waking up because Frank’s jerked back from a nightmare. First time holding him, comforting him through the haze.

For the first time in a long time, he feels safe and alive, and that’s its own perfection.


End file.
